Personal Reasons
by Indigo Tantarian
Summary: Cecilos Week Day 5: Talking on the phone. When Carlos called Cecil that night, his excuse was yet another unexplained phenomenon in Night Vale. He actually hoped the radio host's voice would calm his mind and help him sleep. The result, however, was different than either of them expected. I don't know what genre this should be, really.


**Personal Reasons**

It took a long time for Carlos to admit that 95% of the time when he called Cecil, it was just because he wanted to hear the other man's voice. His heart leapt when Cecil answered the phone, from a slow, "Hellooooooo?" to a high squeal of, "CARLOS!"

No one else was that excited about his name.

But he strove to keep their interactions professional. "I am not calling for personal reasons," he would state stiffly.

There were plenty of non-personal reasons to call Cecil for. Night Vale offered up a plethora of scientific impossibilities, each one more menacing than the last. At first Cecil's nonchalance about it all was infuriating, even terrifying, but slowly it began to comfort the scientist. He began to gauge his own need for urgency by Cecil's response.

"Cecil, I need you to tell your listeners that there's a cube of electric blue vapor just sitting directly in front of the movie theater."

"Hm? Oh, it's the fifth Wednesday of a month with an A in it. But if you'd like to meet to take a look, I can be there in five minutes!"

"No, I have to… I have a lot to do. Goodbye." He always hurriedly ended the call when it got to that point, if he couldn't ignore what the other man had said.

Or…

"Cecil, I'm outside the Dog Park, and I can hear…"

"Carlos, get out of there!"

"But it's –"

"GO! Get away from there NOW!"

The Dog Park. Station Management. They struck fear in the blithe man's heart, and that made them all the more interesting to Carlos, but he decided it would be best to heed the warnings and stay away… for the most part.

Carlos knew that he was calling Cecil more often than he had in the beginning, more often than was necessary, and probably more than was good for him. He recognized it as a problem, but it was one that he could put a stop to any time he wanted to. He was in complete control of the situation. He told himself this as he called the radio host late on a Friday night.

"Oh HEY, Carlos!" came Cecil's enthusiastic voice after a ring and a half.

"Cecil, I am not calling for personal reasons."

"Are you doing some night science? It's a little late to be working, isn't it? You really should make sure you're sleeping enough, Carlos."

"I – no, I needed to tell you…" He could already tell this was going to sound stupid. "…to make sure you knew… that the lights above the Arby's… have been moving lately."

"Oh yes, they always move." Cecil's voice was so calm, so soothing.

"I know, but… well, I recently noticed that they move faster late at night."

"Generally when most people would normally be sleeping, yes."

"I just… Why, Cecil? What are they? I don't understand."

"Carlos… very few of us understand the lights above the Arby's. They simply… are."

"Do you understand them?"

There was a brief pause. "Not entirely. I've got some idea, but I think for the moment they're a bit beyond my expertise."

"I just… there's so MUCH I don't understand, Cecil, and I can't STAND it sometimes."

"If you want, we could meet at Arby's tomorrow to talk about it!" His voice had gone high and excited.

"NO, Cecil, I DON'T want…" Carlos trailed off, realizing he was almost yelling. They were both silent for a long moment, then the scientist sighed heavily, flopping back on his bed. "I'm sorry. I'm just… tired."

Silence for another moment, and Carlos's heart sank. "I'm sorry, Cecil," he said again, quietly.

"There are many things in this town that are difficult to understand," the radio host said softly. "Even for those of us who have lived here all our lives. There are things we aren't meant to understand, or to question."

"I can't accept that, Cecil. That's not something I can live with."

"I know what you mean." Cecil's voice grew wistful. "I can't tell you how many times I've gone through reeducation because I went in search of answers. …I really can't tell you, because I don't remember most of them. I just know it's happened quite frequently."

"What exactly… does that involve?"

"I can't tell you much about that, either. It involves quite a bit of memory erasure. Honestly, I try not to think about all the things I've forgotten, because I just wouldn't be able to make it through the day." Cecil sounded oddly distant. "But mainly it involves changing my opinions and beliefs through various types of conditioning. There are certain things I know I used to feel differently about, and those are the things I try not to think about. It's very difficult sometimes. I'm positive that I have needed reeducation multiple times about the same subject."

Carlos was struck speechless by the horror of such an idea. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, completely unable to vocalize.

"Cecil," he finally managed to choke out.

"Of course, it's for my own good. As the Voice of Night Vale, I need to support all municipal decisions. It keeps me in a job, really." There was a soft chuckle.

"But that's… that's horrible, Cecil."

"No. No it isn't." His voice sharpened, and there was a very careful edge to it. "It's for my own safety. It keeps me alive. I much prefer it to the alternative."

"But if your thoughts aren't even your own…"

"Oh, they are. Mostly. That's the problem, I think. They'll always be too much my own. But if I manage to control my words, that's… that's what really matters. In the end. I think."

"No – Cecil…"

"That's why I fear for you, Carlos. You're so… inquisitive, your brain never turns off. You always have to know, to understand. I know. I know how you feel. But you have to understand, that is a DANGEROUS thing. They have been trying to destroy that urge in me for… decades now, and it just can't be eradicated." His voice dropped so low Carlos had to strain to hear it. "One day they will stop trying, and choose the easy alternative instead."

"Cecil…" Carlos's voice cracked.

"But you – you're an outsider, but you haven't been killed – though admittedly it's been too close for comfort sometimes – and you haven't run away. Carlos, I fear so often that… steps will be taken to stop you. And that they will not be as gentle as they always are with me."

If it weren't so late, with the Sheriff's secret police and all the bears roaming the streets, Carlos would have leapt up right then and gone to Cecil's apartment, without a care for how it would look or whether it was strictly professional or whether it was something he SHOULD do.

"That's not going to happen," he said instead, a steely edge to his voice. "I won't allow it."

"There are worse things than reeducation," came Cecil's small voice.

"Like hell there are. I'm not afraid of them."

"You should be."

"Well I'm not. You know what? I'm done being afraid of everything in this ridiculous town. I'm done with hiding and I'm done with letting hooded figures push me around. And tomorrow – I'm going to investigate the city under the bowling alley."

"Carlos, you shouldn't!"

"Cecil, I don't give a damn. And you know what else? I'm done with making up ridiculous excuses to call you. It's a waste of my time and yours. Thanks for the talk, it's helped a lot. I'll see you later. Goodnight."

"But – I… Carlos!" Cecil was left holding a silent phone as the scientist hung up on him. As Carlos got a drink of water and went back to bed, satisfied that he was finally going to start really LIVING here, and taking action not just in his professional life but in his personal life too. He didn't take into account the possibility that his words left Cecil trembling sleepless on the couch all night.


End file.
